


You Stick Around I’ll Make It Worth Your While

by flarechaser



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, if meet-cute involves getting stranded in the desert and almost dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flarechaser/pseuds/flarechaser
Summary: Luke stumbles across a boy lost in the desert with a malfunctioning droid and a flimsy backstory.





	You Stick Around I’ll Make It Worth Your While

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurora_chiroptera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_chiroptera/gifts).



> @aurora_chiroptera made this fic possible by cheerleading, beta-ing, and listening to me ramble on about a show she hadn't yet watched. I would apologize for dragging you into this rarepair hell, but it wouldn't be sincere.
> 
> Title from Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys.

Sunsickness hit suddenly. Luke had been there before, out checking vaporators one moment and finding himself facedown in the dirt the next, his limbs heavy and his stomach heaving. Offworlders were even worse.

Usually they had their bouts of dizziness in the settlements and drifted back to the climate-controlled sanctuary of their ships. But here there was no town, no ship, no building, or even a bit of scrap metal to explain the presence of a dusty astromech and the body curled up in its meager shadow.

Luke had seen travelers lost in sandstorms, desiccated and half buried in the grit that had killed them. He’d seen bodies left by Tuscan Raiders. Once he’d seen a Bantha maul its handler in town for being too rough on a hot day. Death was ever present here. He knew what a body looked like.

He idled his speeder a moment longer, then switched off the ignition and stepped out onto the baked earth. Without the quiet hum of the engine, it was more obvious. Labored breathing, the rhythmic scrabbling of fingernails against baked earth and metal. Luke hurried his steps.

“Are you awake?” Luke tried his best to put his shadow over the man’s face as he turned him over but there wasn’t much shadow to go around. “Can you hear me?

“Kn….” Whatever he tried to say drifted out in a sigh. Now that Luke could see his face – dark hair, eyes so blue but unfocused, drifting closed again in a moment – he couldn’t have been older than Luke.

“Ok, stay with me, I’m gonna try to get you help,” Luke said, talking just to give the kid something to focus on, something to try to keep him awake. He started to haul the boy upright and as he did his eyes opened again and he reached out, barely managing to catch his fingers against the droid’s support strut. “I’ll get your droid, too. Don’t worry. I’m gonna try to stand up now. Please don’t puke on me ok?”

He managed not to puke. Between the dryness of his skin and how flushed and red he looked, it probably didn’t mean anything, but Luke took it as a good sign. The kid was basically a dead weight, but he struggled gamely to get his feet under him as Luke led him to his speeder.

Just before he reached the vehicle, the boy stumbled suddenly and fell to his knees, nearly pulling Luke down with him. A cylinder fell from his belt, and Luke grabbed for it before trying to haul him up again. It looked like a hunk of metal, maybe some component to a spacecraft, but why anyone would have it attached to their belt like a blaster, Luke couldn’t figure. People often started doing strange things when heat sickness hit, and Luke would have left it off as yet another mystery when he accidentally ran his thumb over a protrusion on the casing.

Immediately a green blade of light ignited from one end, greener than anything Luke had ever seen. It startled him so badly he dropped it, extinguishing the light. Breathing suddenly rushed, he looked over at the boy to find his eyes fixed on Luke, more lucid than he seemed before. There was no sound but the wind as Luke took in his frown, more severe because of the grime and the sun glaring overhead. Luke thought he might say something finally, licking his lips, but his head lolled forward again and Luke remembered where they were. Luke scooped up the strange cylinder and stuffed it in his satchel. They had to move on.

Hydration packs were part of any emergency ration on Tatooine, and practically worth their weight in gold. It was too dangerous to store them in the speeder, but Luke always had them in his satchel. With the boy finally slumped over in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the side at an uncomfortable angle, Luke knew he should offer one, but was he even strong enough to take it? There was the hypo too, but he had received so many lectures about how it was only for the most dire emergencies. Luke had no idea how much Uncle Owen had paid for it, but . . . if anything counted as an emergency, this did.

Of course it was in the bottom of his kit, buried beneath half used bandage roles and bacta pack wrappers. He pressed the injector to the top of the kid’s thigh, and got no response to the pressure besides a fluttering of eyelids. “Ok, this might hurt for a minute,” he said, pressing the plunger. The kid swatted weakly at his hand, grimacing, but didn’t lift his head. Ok. He was alive enough. Time to get the droid.

The astromech was squat and a bit off kilter, but it rolled well enough when Luke pushed it toward his speeder. The metal casing was hot to the touch even with his work gloves, but heat usually didn’t do too much to droids on its own. They were built to survive the extremes of space travel, and even Tatooine’s heat couldn’t compare to that. It was probably the dust getting in and wreaking havoc in all sorts of systems. Nothing a wire brush and a shop vac couldn’t fix.

Heaving the bucket of bolts into the back seat wasn’t the last of his troubles. The first full word the kid managed to form was a breathy “stop” barely audible over the wind. Luke did, and just in time for his passenger to lean over the edge of the speeder and lose the contents of his stomach to the sand. Luke dutifully looked away to provide some privacy. “You ready to go?” he asked when the boy settled back against the seat. His only response was a hum, probably affirmative, and Luke took off again.

Luke drove the speeder practically to the front door, which must have warned his aunt that something was amiss. She appeared as the dust settled and helped lift the boy out of the passenger’s seat before Luke had managed to get more than a couple words out. “I found him in the desert on the way back from the Dawes’ farm,” Luke said, getting an arm over his shoulders and trying to take more of the weight as they brought him inside. “Can you help him?”

His aunt smiled, but there was a tightness to her eyes that went against the comfort she was trying to convey. “Did you give him anything?”

“I used the hypo. I know you said it was only for emergencies, but-”

“You did the right thing, I think. Give me the casing and I’ll refill it. We won’t tell your uncle.” They’d reached Luke’s room, and Aunt Beru motioned to lower their charge onto the cot. “You don’t know how long he was out there?”

Luke shook his head. “No. He had a droid, too. I left it in the speeder.”

“Then you had probably better see to it,” she replied.

Thus dismissed, Luke went to move the speeder away from the house. The droid he wheeled into the workshop, and set about opening his casing to remove the dust.

“You’re really lucky I found you today,” Luke said, using his multitool to loosen the support struts. “I don’t usually take that way home. What were you guys doing out there, anyways?”

Luke didn’t expect an answer, nor did he receive one. The decision to race across the flats had been little more than a whim. Usually he would take the canyons, even though that route took longer. It was more fun to steer around tight corners and pretend he was hurtling through space. But the open expanse of the flats and saltpans had called to him, and he opened up the throttle and away he went. In that range of uniform nothingness, it had been easy to spot the stranded droid and its master, and Luke had steered toward them, all curiosity.

The casing of the droid’s body finally opened, and Luke could make out the serial number, shockingly free of any rust. The wires were all color coded correctly too, not the rat’s nest he usually found in his work. “C1-10P. Nice to meet you.”

Luke could sooner believe that C1-10P was a native to Tatooine than the boy he had rescued. Every part of the droid showed long use, though it had been maintained elegantly. Mismatched parts were still made to work and the paint looked like it hadn’t gone through more than one sandblasting. Someone took thorough care of it.

Cleaning the inner workings of a droid was nearly second nature to Luke now. The rhythmic brush strokes sent him drifting further into his thoughts, to the boy lying on the cot in his room and the strange cylinder still resting in his bag. Luke didn’t dare touch it again. But he couldn’t get it out of his head, the sudden resistance against his hand as the blade ignited, the feel of . . . of . . .

“Your aunt is still seeing to your friend, so you’ll be dealing with my cooking tonight.” Luke started at the sound of his uncle’s voice, fumbling for his wire brush before setting it aside and taking a breath.

“Is he any better?” Uncle Owen’s dinners didn’t seem to taste any different from Aunt Beru’s. There wasn’t much to eat out here anyways and only so many ways to cook it. Stew was stew. Meat skewers were meat skewers.

“His temperature is down,” Uncle Owen replied, setting a tray on the surface of a bench not covered in parts. “I guess he went through our store of saline so quickly we’ll have to process more. He’s lucky you found him when you did.”

“Has he said anything?” Luke wiped his hands off on a rag and moved to the tray.

Owen looked away. “Not that we’ve understood. Maybe you’ll have better luck with the droid. For now Beru thinks its best we let our other guest sleep.”

“I’ll finish up with this guy, then,” Luke said, picking up his brush and going back to work in the droid’s hardware.

Luke didn’t hear his uncle leave, lost again in the regularity of the work and near-waking dreams of a green pillar of light.

Both suns had long set when Luke finally put aside his toolkit and closed the droid’s casing. Its power cell booted again slowly, a quite hum in the nighttime workshop. “Are you awake?” Luke asked, rubbing a polishing cloth over its optical sensor just to be sure.

The droid was silent for a moment, and Luke leaned away from it with a slight frown. Just in time.

The droid activated its rocket booster and shot towards the door, screaming obscenities about three decades out of use even on Tatooine. But its internal processors were still adjusting from the hard reboot, and it slammed into the doorframe, spinning wildly out of control and knocking down rows of neatly arranged tools before cutting its booster and landing hard.

The rough take off and landing apparently hadn’t phased the droid, who immediately spouted its two claws and grabbed for the nearest object – Luke’s half eaten mystery meat skewers.

“Please don’t throw that!” Luke shouted, hands held up in surrender. The droid didn’t listen, and Luke barely dodged. “Please! It’s ok! I’m just trying to help!”

C1-10P replied unfavorably.

“No don’t! I found you both in the desert, you were in pretty rough shape-” The droid dropped its makeshift projectiles and began patting down its casing, producing a strange pitch that could only be described as scandalized. “There was dust in basically every system. I had to get it out before restoring power,” Luke continued. “You need a better sealant if you’re going to be staying here for any length of time.”

C1-10P’s vocalizations were a lower pitch than Luke was used to, warbling and distorted. It produced a low growl, almost a groan, its tiny pincers drooping before returning to their anchors. Its head swiveled around suddenly, the visual sensor scanning for-

“Oh! Your master is in the main house.” Luke waved vaguely toward the door. “My aunt is looking after him.”

A negative warble preceded the illuminated hologram of a Twi’lek woman in a flight suit and an aggressive gesture from its pincers. “Ok! Not your master. What were you guys doing out there, anyways?”

The droid paused for a moment, and then began reciting . . . numbers?? “I’m just trying to make conversation. You could have died, you know. Or your friend could have.”

Some indignant sputtering followed this, and Luke guessed that the droid had made that same point and been ignored. It grumbled a moment longer and went silent, suddenly rolling toward the door. “Wait! Let me at least show you where you’re going.”

C1-10P grumbled something but assented to being led to the main house.

Aunt Beru was still up, sitting in a chair by their guest’s cot, resting her chin in her hand. She smiled tiredly when Luke came in. “You got the droid working again.”

“He wanted to see his master-” C1-10P blorted again at this. “er, his friend. If that’s ok?”

“It couldn’t hurt. He’s resting now. I think the worst of the danger is past.” She stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll go to bed. Do you want me to make up the extra cot for you?”

“I can handle it. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“How could we do anything less?” Beru replied. “We couldn’t just leave him to suffer.”

C1-10P had taken his post by the boy’s head, his optical sensor trained on his face. Luke watched him for a moment, but the violent motion that defined the droid’s early actions seemed to be suppressed. Dropping heavily into his aunt’s abandoned chair, Luke leaned back and rested his head against the cool stone wall.

A boy in the desert and a blade of green light. The image sat heavily in Luke’s mind, all his thoughts drawn back to it eventually. It startled him when it ignited so suddenly, but when he looked back on it the steady hum and the resistance against his hand felt more right than anything had in his life, a dreamlike familiarity. More than fixing busted up vaporators or racing speeders ever had. That was routine, all part of the isolation of the moisture farm that was home, but holding that blade he felt like he could nearly see the whole of the galaxy stretched out before him, intrinsically connected, possibility unending.

Somewhere in that vast unknown something was calling for him, and his spirit was desperate to answer.

Luke woke suddenly with sunlight in his eyes and a crick in his neck. He’d fallen asleep, propped in a corner where the wall met a cabinet.

The room glowed in the low morning light, not quite bright enough for the second sun to have risen. Already Luke’s dream was fading, leaving behind little more than a sense that a deadline might be approaching, but Luke couldn’t remember what for. It was an odd, uncomfortable way to wake up.

C1-10P was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the droid’s warble from elsewhere in the house, his Aunt’s reply a low murmur. The world seemed very distant and muted in the desert morning, and Luke sighed, hoping he could escape his chores for a little while longer.

His eyes were drawn to the boy, still lying on Luke’s cot. Last night he had been very still, on his back, unmoving except for the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. He had curled on his side some time in the night, kicking the covers down around his ankles. Beru must have dressed him some of Luke’s old clothes while she cared for him, just to have him in something clean and not soaked through with sweat. He was close enough to Luke in height that they fit well, though the shirt was maybe a little tight across the chest.

While Luke watched, the glow of day slowly increased with the rising of the second sun as it moved over the horizon sending a new stream of light into the small room. Luke thought to close the curtains so as not to wake their guest, but as soon as he rose to his feet the boy hummed and stretched. His eyes opened slowly and he met Luke’s, smiling sleepily, and Luke - Luke felt his heart rate pick up, and blood rush into his cheeks.

The shirt was. Definitely tight.

Oh.

 _Oh no_.

~*~

Space was cold. No matter how hard the climate controls worked, Hera rarely put the Ghost at a temperature Ezra considered confortable. Enough to keep the organics alive, Chopper said, so be thankful for that much.

So he loved these mornings on Chopper base. The gravity, the humidity, even the sunlight was closer to Lothal’s than he had felt in months by the time they moved in. With the base, he could have his family close and all the comforts of being planetside. There was nothing quiet like waking up with real sunlight.

He could hear Chopper rambling off in the distance – his vocalizations tended to travel – with the quiet hum of organic voices responding. Machinery humming to life at the start of a new shift. Kanan would be in to look for him before too long, but he was still so tired . . .

There was a presence in the force, so warm and encompassing that Ezra almost missed it. It was like a childhood picnic in the tall grasses of Lothal, like reclining on the warm rocks of Atollon after a long practice session, like meditating with Ahsoka as her steadiness and light seemed to permeate every layer of reality. He stretched his limbs as he drifted closer to the waking world, opening his eyes.

A boy stood before him, the source of the feeling, a beacon of light like the star cluster from so many months ago. It took Ezra an embarrassingly long time to realize he wasn’t wearing the rebel uniform, and that Ezra . . . wasn’t either?

A rude growl announced Chopper’s arrival, and startled Ezra upright and into full awareness. “Chopper! What are you doing?!” Chopper warbled a response, gesturing accusingly and nearly running over the new boy as he raced into the room to continue his harangue.   Ezra groaned and flopped down again, pulling the pillow over his head, though the rough fabric scraped at his sunburned skin. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, ok? Can you keep it down? I have a headache.”

Chopper did not keep it down. He continued blorting and hissing at his usual volume, but he rolled out of the room and further into the house, calling for someone else. “Um. Is everything alright?” the boy asked, once Ezra’s grip on the pillow slackened a little.

He pulled the pillow from his head and looked at the boy for a moment. There was something familiar about him from the slope of his nose to his presence in the force. Ezra watched as a bit of his open wonderment faded into something more guarded. “Where am I?” he asked finally, his voice rough from the dry air.

“This is my uncle’s farm,” the boy replied. “Ah, moisture farm. There’s not much that grows on Tatooine.”

“You saved us.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of that you would remember.” Ezra saw the moment the boy realized he was staring, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He pulled the chair away from the wall and sat down again, closer to the bed. “What were you doing out there, anyways?”

The broken holocron, the message from Master Kenobi, the vision of Maul in the desert . . . it would have seemed far fetched to Ezra before he had joined the Ghost. What could he say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous? “Looking for someone.”

“Out in the sand wastes? No one lives out there.”

“Well, my ship was shot down, so I didn’t really get to choose where to start-”

“You’re a pilot? That’s amazing!” Whatever caution the boy attempted to maintain evaporated in an instant. “I wondered, since you had that astromech, but he said he wasn’t yours, so I thought maybe you had just hired someone? How many worlds have you been to? What sort of ships do you fly? Wait-” He cut himself off here. “I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Luke. Luke Skywalker.”

The Ezra could feel the blood drain from his face as he heard the name, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Skywalker? Is that a common name around here?”

“I don’t think so?” Luke replied. “I’ve never met another one. Do you have a name?”

Another too-long moment that stretched on before Ezra scowled and rolled his eyes. “Call me Jabba.”

His scowl deepened when Luke started laughing at that. “No, its just – ha – you’re going to want to use a different name. Jabba the Hutt is pretty much the law in these parts. I don’t think he’d be too thrilled.”

“Hondo, then.”

“Ok, Hondo. But I still don’t know why you won’t just use your real name. We’re just farmers.”

“Maybe Hondo is my real name.”

“If you’re sure.” Luke smiled, and Ezra could appreciate that he at least tried to hold back his laughter. He opened his mouth to speak again, but at that moment an older woman came in carrying a tray, followed closely by Chopper.

“I’m glad to see you’re up,” she said, placing the tray on a fold out stand. “You gave us a bit of a scare. Your droid wouldn’t leave your side; Owen told me he tore apart the workshop when Luke first reactivated him.”

“That sounds like Chopper,” Ezra replied, glaring at the droid, who only made a rude noise.

“Well, he didn’t manage to break anything, so no harm done,” the woman replied, though she glanced at Chopper with some suspicion. “I guess you’ve already met my nephew – I’m Beru. My husband has gone out to work, but I’m sure he’ll be in to make his introductions soon enough, Mr . . . ?”

“Just call me Hondo,” Ezra replied. His stomach clenched painfully, and as much as he was trying to ignore it and focus on his rescuers, the food was right there.

Ezra was caught somewhere between starving and stomach dropping nausea that usually only came from motion sickness – the kind that happened when Zeb couldn’t keep the TIE they’d stolen level or after Sabine hit him with a repulsor blast in practice. He knew he was hungry, but that was about it. Luke’s aunt had provided some thin broth. It didn’t smell like much of anything, which was honestly perfect for the way his stomach was acting.

“You’re probably hungry,” Beru said. “I’ll let you alone to eat. Luke, will you be all right on your own today? I have to go to town for some supplies.”

Chopper trundled out of the room after her, offering to accompany her, and Ezra was honestly . . . shocked at the droid’s manners. Unless . . . “You better not just leave me here, Chopper!” Ezra shouted after him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and attempting to stand. Dizziness nearly overcame him at the sudden movement, and Luke managed to catch him before he could fall and helped lower him back to the bed.

“I think you should probably take it easy for a while,” he said, taking his seat again. “You were in really bad shape when I found you. I’m sure your droid won’t leave you behind.”

“You don’t know him like I do.” Ezra took a deep breath and reached for the bowl Beru had brought. Whatever it was almost tasted . . . fishy, but he couldn’t imagine where they would get fish on a planet so desolate.

“You don’t use his serial number?” Luke asked.

“Its kind of a mouthful. He- his owner only does it when she’s really mad at him.”

Luke mouthed the word like he was testing it out before putting voice to it. “He seems pretty devoted. He tried to rocket boost his way out of the workshop to get to you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where that’s coming from,” Ezra said after another sip. “He spent at least the first year I knew him trying to kill me.”

The kid didn’t seem to really know what to say to that – most people would probably scrap a droid that was really murderous, but Hera wasn’t most people and Chopper had seniority. He was basically one support strut in the scrap heap anyways, considering the lifespan of most astromechs and what he’d already gone through. “Your aunt is probably fine though,” Ezra continued. “Chopper is always nicer to girls.”

“So you’re a pilot?” Luke asked again, leaning forward a little in his seat.

Ezra was caught between two conflicting desires, and tried to hide it by drinking more of the broth. “I mean, it’s not all I do,” he said. Ok, so technically he wasn’t supposed to talk about the rebellion, and he knew that? But it would be weirder to not have a story thought up. It was a game they would sometimes play on the longer flights between systems, everyone coming up with more detailed backstories for their covers. But Ezra didn’t have any reason at all to be on Tatooine. He hadn’t really thought he would have to explain himself.

But Luke was definitely waiting for him to continue, and his excitement was kind of . . . endearing.

“Yeah, I mean, Chopper’s master does most of the flying. She’s a pretty amazing pilot – usually we have a modified freighter but she does test piloting for concept crafts and refurbished antique military vessels. She’s kinda teaching me all her moves.”

It had the desired effect. Luke’s face absolutely lit up – he grinned, his eyes sparkling. “That’s so cool! Is she the Twi’lek lady that Chopper has the holo of? I thought she looked like a pilot!”

“Yeah, she’s pretty great. I’m usually on the nose gun for when we come up against pirates and things like that.”

“You’ve fought pirates?!” Luke gasped. “Wait, you were shot down? Was that pirates, too? Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“I don’t know who it was,” Ezra replied, setting his bowl aside. “And I came out here on my own. I’m not really . . . supposed to be here.”

“Then whoever you’re looking for, they’re probably pretty important right?” Luke stood and began opening drawers in his desk, rummaging around and kicking things into disarray. “Do you need any help? If you’re not familiar with the place it’s pretty easy to get lost, and I know where most of the people in these parts live."

Ezra was quiet for a moment, tempted to take Luke up on his offer. But the memory of Maul so easily killing the inquisitors flashed through his mind and he shivered. Maul would be able to sense the same thing he did, and Ezra didn’t want to think about what he would do to the brightness in Luke. “Maybe if you could just . . . point me in the right direction? Do you know anyone named Obi Wan Kenobi?”

Something stopped Luke from answering right away. He paused in his search, chewing at his lip, and Ezra looked away quickly. “There’s a Ben Kenobi who lives around here. He’s sort of a hermit, he doesn’t come into the settlements often and most people think he’s pretty weird for living on his own like he does.” Luke finally pulled a hat and goggles out of his drawer, and tossed them to Ezra. “But you won’t be able to find him without help.”

“If you have a map or something, Chopper can probably lead me there. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You won’t be.” Luke ran into the hall for a moment and Ezra heard more rummaging around out there. He was about to try to stand up again when Luke returned with a satchel. “So it looks like your clothes are still going through a refresher cycle. They probably won’t be done for a while. But, ah. Here.”

He held the satchel out for Ezra, who took it gingerly. “Thank . . . you?”

“No, inside it, I-” Ezra opened the main flap and saw his lightsaber sitting amongst a loose assortment of tools. “It fell off when I was getting you into the speeder. I might have accidentally turned it on. I don’t think I broke anything, but I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to do.”

“It’s-” _It’s his heritage, he needs to know_. Ezra stuck the lightsaber in his belt and sighed. “It’s a lightsaber.”

Luke offered a hand so Ezra could get to his feet. “What, like in the old Jedi stories?”

“Kind of like that.”

After Luke helped him upright, Ezra managed to stand and even walk without much dizziness, though he kept a hand on Luke’s shoulder as they made their way through the house just to be safe. He tried not to think about what he would do when he actually found Master Kenobi, or even worse, Maul. He felt helpless and shaky as a baby lothcat, worse than crouching before the Sith lord with his lightsaber shattered.

The Sith lord had been a force of nature beyond cause or control. But Maul, and especially Maul’s presence on Tatooine, was indisputably his fault.

“Are you doing ok?” Luke asked, taking Ezra’s quiet for something besides self-reproach.

“I’ll be fine,” Ezra replied. “So where’s our ride?”

Luke’s face lit up suddenly and he hurried Ezra out of the subterranean dwelling, and Ezra did his best to keep up, still holding on to Luke’s arm. The heat on the surface was appalling, and it wasn’t even really the surface – just another crater-turned-docking-port that housed a folded tri-wing – a heavily repaired T16 that looked like it had been in service since before either of the boys had been alive.

“I learned to fly on this baby,” Luke said, leading Ezra towards the cockpit. “My uncle saved her from the scrap heap and helped me fix her up. She’s fully pressurized and could probably do better than sub-orbital, but I don’t want to tax the environmental controls too much. But she’s got a cannon, so she’s a lot safer than the speeder.”

The Skyhopper had a jump seat behind the pilot’s. Ezra closed his eyes, even though he couldn’t see anything, facing away from the cramped little cockpit and dredging up every last lesson on meditation he could think of. The ship’s repulsors hummed below him, but they were working well enough that Ezra could barely feel the movement of the craft. Or Luke was just that good a pilot.

He wasn’t used to motion sickness – it reminded him of hungry days as a child before he had learned how to take care of himself. It was uncomfortable and he hoped not permanent. How could he be of any use to the rebellion if he couldn’t handle a little turbulence?

With the help of the warm presence at his back he drifted deeper into meditation – or maybe just closer to sleep – when Luke spoke up. “So who was the Skywalker that you knew?”

“I didn’t know anyone.” Anakin Skywalker’s training holos had probably saved his life more than once. Ezra had watched them so many times he could practically narrate them back at any given moment. When training first started getting really serious, whenever Kanan got in a mood and made them practice dawn to dusk and watch those holos over and over for every nuance of movement imaginable, Ezra started having bizarre dreams about the guy critiquing his fights with the empire. But he couldn’t say he really knew him. “I just had a friend who knew a guy. You know how it is.”

Luke was quiet for a time, and Ezra began drifting again. “Was his name Anakin?” Ezra sat up so quickly that the seatbelt straps pulled taut at the sudden movement. Luke must have felt it and continued, the excitement building in his voice. “My father’s name was Anakin Skywalker. My aunt and uncle didn’t know him very well, apparently he was always off world, being a cargo pilot and all-”

Skywalker. _Skywalker_. “That was his name,” Ezra replied carefully. How many Anakin Skywalkers could there be in the galaxy? Plenty. There had to be a ton. “But he wasn’t a cargo pilot. He was a Jedi. Everyone who met him said he was probably the greatest Jedi who ever lived.”

There were probably millions of Anakin Skywalkers in the galaxy. But how many could have a son so strong in the force, raised by relatives on the same nowhere planet as an exiled Obi Wan Kenobi? After everything Ezra had seen . . . it would make sense, to hide a child so strong with the force as far away from the core worlds and Inquisitors as possible. And the resemblance was . . . it was too much.

Luke had been quiet for a while too, the air in the cockpit suddenly tense. “But why would my uncle. . . .” he trailed off.

“Your parents died around the same time you were born, right?” Ezra guessed. Luke didn't answer, and Ezra pressed on. “That was when the Jedi were branded traitors and killed. Rex tells all sorts of stories about the clone wars – apparently Skywalker was a pretty great pilot too. It makes sense. I mean, the Empire isn’t exactly a fan of the Jedi. Your aunt and uncle probably hid the truth to keep you safe. They send all sorts of agents out to snatch up force sensitive kids. If you have the force, then you would have been in danger.”

“And you’re a Jedi too,” Luke said, his voice soft, uncertain. “That’s why you have the lightsaber.”

“It’s not . . . safe,” Ezra replied. “I don’t want to keep it from people. But whenever the empire knows where we are or who we talk to, they always come, and they always . . . I didn’t want to put you or your family in danger. Not after you saved me.”

The silences in the conversation continued to stretch, longer each time. “The guy you’re looking for. Is he a Jedi too?”

“He is.” Ezra unbuckled his harness and turned in his seat. He still couldn’t quite face Luke but it was easier to talk this way, instead of staring at a blank wall. Luke’s expression was reflected on the cockpit windows, distorted a little by the holographic HUD. He didn’t look angry but his mouth was just slightly downturned. Concentration, maybe. Or disbelief. It was a lot to take in. “He’s . . . I’m not sure, the key to defeating the empire, to ending this war, it’s supposed to be here on Tatooine. No one else really believes that Master Kenobi is still alive, but. He has to be. And if he is, he’s in danger.”

“Does the Empire know he’s here?”

“No. Something worse.”

“It's a good thing we have the cannon, then,” Luke muttered. Ezra didn’t mention how useless the Skyhopper’s dinky cannon would be against someone like Maul.

Luke sent the craft into a gentle turn over a mountain range, the altimeter on the holographic display gradually falling. “So we’re pretty much in the general area. Wherever we land, it's a pretty good hike to get to Ben’s place. I brought some hydration packs; you might want to drink one before we get started.”

Ezra slid Luke’s satchel from under the pilot’s seat and pulled out a pair of vacuum sealed liquid rations, offering one to Luke, but the other boy waved him off. “So how do you-”

“Oh, sorry! We reuse them,” Luke said, putting the ship into autopilot for a moment and turning in his seat. “There’s a flap at the top, you pull it and it breaks the seal, and we can refill it and seal it again later.”

Almost as soon as Ezra figured out the mechanism and went to take a drink, movement rocked the ship and he spilled half the ration on his borrowed clothes. Luke turned back to the controls and cursed. “Ok, maybe we find another landing zone.”

“What is it?” Ezra asked.

“Sand People.” The skyhopper’s blaster whined as he spun the ship towards their attackers, rolling to the side to avoid more fire, always careful to keep moving and rising steadily out of the range of groundfire. “Doesn’t look like a lot of them, but you never know. I don’t really want to risk it.”

“Lower the ramp and turn the ship so I can get a good angle on them,” Ezra said, standing and grabbing hold of a cargo strap to steady himself.

“What? Why?” Luke asked, but he was already moving to follow Ezra’s instruction.

“You’ll see.” Igniting his lightsaber, Ezra stepped forward onto the ramp, bracing himself with a hand looped through another cargo strap. The Sand People seemed to take the bait, firing at the perceived weakness in the ship’s defenses. Ezra redirected the bolts, seeing the distant figures crumple to the ground. He heard a gasp behind him – Luke seemed to understand, sending the ship into a steady spin, relying on the display’s instruments rather than sight to point Ezra in the right direction as the Skyhopper’s nose tilted slightly skyward.

Ezra redirected another volley, the blaster bolts finding their marks before they could dodge. “Can you bring me in a little lower? I think these guys might be wising up.”

“Doesn’t really sound like them,” Luke replied, but the ship drifted lower in its spin and Luke added some cover fire to keep their attackers distracted. The Skyhopper’s stabilizers kicked up a cloud of dust as they drew closer to the ground. The Sand People could do little more than fire at the shadow of the craft or take aim at the glow of Ezra’s lightsaber – a mistake.

The blasters went silent. Ezra reached out through the force, and what remained of their attackers seemed to be fleeing down the rock-strewn slopes. Good enough.

Luke gently set the Skyhopper down in an area clear of larger rocks, the wings folding with a mechanical hum, it’s landing struts left the craft a bit off-kilter on the uneven terrain. He was on his feet in an instant, and Ezra turned off his lightsaber just in time for Luke to nearly tackle him. His momentum nearly knocked them off the ramp, and Ezra had to put his arms around the other boy to steady them.

“That was amazing!” Luke said, stepping back, but keeping his hands on Ezra’s shoulders. “I thought lightsabers were just swords! How did you learn to redirect the blaster bolts?”

Ezra could feel himself blushing under his sunburn. “Oh, you know. Chopper spent enough time throwing things at me when we first met. I had to pick it up pretty quickly.” Luke looked like he was ready to question why anyone would keep Chopper around, and Ezra pressed on: “But you were amazing too! This thing doesn’t really have that much shielding, does it? But you managed to avoid direct hits and got me where I needed to go.”

“I didn’t do that much,” Luke replied, blushing and looking away with a small, pleased smile on his face.

“No, you did. This would have been a lot harder without a pilot like you.”

Their eyes met again; they were both grinning, and still holding on to each other. They seemed to realize this at the same time, and moved apart. Ezra stepped back into open air, forgetting the ramp they were standing on and feeling the blood drain from his face as gravity made itself known. Luke grabbed him again just in time.

“Maybe we should just-”

“-Yeah.”

They made their way off of the ship, but Luke kept a hold of Ezra’s hand. “Now where do we go?”

“This way.”

It was not Luke who replied. Ezra had his lightsaber out in an instant, stepping in front of Luke, who also pulled a welder out of his satchel, though what he meant to do with it Ezra couldn’t say.

“I thought you might stop by.” The dust had not quite settled, and Ezra turned toward the voice, his lightsaber ready, stepping in front of Luke. A shadow resolved itself from the haze of dust, almost gliding forward, a figure wearing a dark hood. “Though I’m sure there’s no need for that,” he said, motioning to the lightsaber.

“With the day I’ve had, I think I’ll keep it on,” Ezra replied.

“That’s certainly your prerogative.” He lifted his hood, revealing a careworn face with a white beard. “I must say I know the feeling.”

The cadence of his voice was so familiar – “Master Kenobi?” Ezra guessed, though he did not lower his weapon.

“You’re a long way from home, I think.” The old man stepped forward without another glance at Ezra’s lightsaber. “Both of you. Does your Uncle know you’re here, Luke?”

“He told me I should watch our guest,” Luke shrugged. “So here I am.”

“Indeed. Well, you’d better come inside. I’m sure there’s a story here.” Master Kenobi turned back toward the path leading to the small dwelling they had seen from the air, and Ezra finally dropped his lightsaber.

“We don’t have time. Please, Master, come with us. You’re in terrible danger.”

“From Maul?” Kenobi sighed but continued on. “Not any longer, I think. Now come along – let’s all get out of this heat.”

“No, he’s – he’s alive, we’ve fought him, and he’s-” Here Ezra took a deep breath, steeling himself. “He’s here, on Tatooine. And it’s my fault he knows you’re here, but I’m trying to make it right, so we have to go, now.”

“Young man.” That tone of voice would have had Ezra bristling a year ago, or even a few months ago, and it prodded at some of his pride, but his mission here was more important. Ezra opened his mouth to respond, but Kenobi continued. “Maul’s obsession is older than you are, and you can hardly take responsibility for something I should have ended years before your were born. He has come here, and we finished what we started. Now, will you join me?”

~

Ezra watched Luke fidget with the hem of his tunic while Obi Wan prepared tea. Knowing Maul was gone was a relief, certainly. He had done so much damage, had threatened and injured and unbalanced his crew, his family, and to know that was one less danger they would have to face left him feeling . . . lighter. But there was another part of him, a deep, scared part that wondered if Maul really was dead, if he had survived again and was waiting, waiting to take whatever bit of light and happiness Ezra managed to find.

The thought of a confrontation with Maul was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He was tired, the heat here on Tatooine had taken more out of him than he was really prepared for. He needed to collect Master Kenobi and get back to base, but right now, he just needed to . . . sit for a minute. Ezra quietly accepted a cup from Obi Wan, and was still lost in thought when Luke spoke up.

“So if the guy you were worried about is gone, now what will you do?”

It took Ezra a moment to realize Luke was talking to him – Obi Wan was the Knight, the general here and he ought to have a plan – but he sighed and said, “The rebellion still needs you, Master Kenobi. We’re about to make our first major strike against the Empire, and we could really use a Jedi.”

“I was under the impression that you already had one. Two, even.”

It took Ezra a moment to recover from the . . . well, he wasn’t sure it was a compliment. “Well, Kanan and I do our best, but you were a general, a war hero, a member of the council. You could really turn the tide, not just with the battles, but with morale too. And if the Sith Lord shows up again-”

“Sith Lord?” Kenobi’s voice went sharp all at once. “You’ve faced him?”

“You know him? Master, he’s-” Unable to meet Master Kenobi’s eyes, Ezra took a breath and tried to continue. “He’s too much for us. He’s able to outfly all our fighters, the only way we’ve ever been able to escape him was Ahsoka, but now even she-” Ezra could feel his voice breaking and stopped, trying to gather himself for the rest. “His presence in the Force is like an open wound. I thought we could face him alone, but we can’t. If he attacks us again, the rebellion is finished. You’re our only hope.”

Obi Wan was quiet for a long time, leaving the three to finish their tea in silence. Ezra could tell he was thinking, maybe looking back on the old days of the order. Ezra finally said, “Did you know him? The Sith Lord?”

“Ahsoka never told you?”

“I don’t think she knew herself.” Ezra set his cup aside, leaning forward in his seat. “She might have at the end, but – there wasn’t time to tell us.”

“And this Sith Lord killed her.”

Ezra had been avoiding saying the words. He’d avoided Rex for weeks after, trying to duck out of any remembrances or guilt or blame even if the old man wouldn’t say any of it himself. But Rex seemed . . . used to it, by now. Losing friends. If there were only three clones left out of the millions during the war, then maybe he had to be. He’d done more to help mend things in the early days of Ahsoka’s absence than anyone else, and he never made Ezra talk about something he couldn’t, or didn’t want to talk about.

But Rex had known the mission they were going into, and Obi Wan . . . maybe he had sensed it, but out here in this wasteland he couldn’t have known how, or why.

“We didn’t see it,” Ezra admitted. “But there was an explosion and. . . .”

In his attempt to avoid looking at Obi Wan, Ezra managed to catch a glimpse of Luke, watching their exchange with interest, though he couldn’t have known any of the people they were talking about. Luke looked away quickly when he realized Ezra had caught him staring, and they both turned back to Obi Wan.

Still deep in thought, the old master finally replied, “I don’t know that I can help you.”

Ezra was silent for a moment, opening his mouth to say something but closing it again as the words wouldn’t come. He looked to Luke for an explanation – the boy had known him longer – but Luke was just staring with wide eyes between the two. “Why?”

“The Sith Lord you faced is called Darth Vader. I’ve fought him before-”

Ezra stood up then, unable to stay still in the face of Obi Wan’s refusal. “Then you know how to beat him! I don’t understand-”

Ezra’s anger seemed to have no affect on the old man, who remained seated finishing his tea. He looked . . . sad, almost, but Ezra wasn’t in a mood to wonder why. “I barely escaped with my life the last time, and still paid a heavy price. He holds me in particular contempt, as he did with Ahsoka. It was her presence that likely led Darth Vader to you and mine would only do the same. I have a purpose that can be much better served here, without putting the Rebellion in further danger.”

“What kind of excuse is that?” The suddenness of his own anger and movement left Ezra dizzy, but he forged ahead. “We’re already in danger, that’s why we need your help, and there’s nothing on this planet that could be more important that working to defeat the Empire.”

“We all have a part to play in that noble endeavor, and mine happens to be here. Yours is not.” Kenobi stood, bringing the cups back into his tiny kitchen. He returned with a datastick and offered it to Ezra. “Have you given any thought to how you will return to your base? Maul left his ship on the other side of the dune sea, but I’m sure you could arrange transportation to get to it.”

Ezra glared, but still took the offered datastick. “I’m not leaving until you agree to come with me.”

“And leave your friends to fight without you?”

“Like you can talk!” Kenobi’s expression shuttered at the outburst, but he did not reply, and Ezra could very nearly sense the old Jedi’s reaction before he swept it aside – grief, guilt, regret – and it must have been overwhelming for a master to be unable to maintain control. “Your friends never stopped fighting, and here you are, hiding on some backwater dustball!” Ezra shouted, waving his arms to encompass the whole of the room, the mountain, the planet.

Luke seemed to become more uncomfortable as the exchange progressed, his shoulders hunched, once in a while opening his mouth to interject, but never quite gathering the courage to do so, until now. He reached out and caught Ezra’s arm mid-gesture. “Maybe we should-”

But Ezra shook him off and continued: “The rebellion needs you, Rex needs you, Ahsoka needed you. Maybe you could have done something when Vader . . . when Vader. . . .” He was trying, really trying to come to terms with Ahsoka’s death and whatever part he played in it, but his voice still broke whenever he tried to say the words, leaving him more frustrated. It was one thing to _know_ he could have done nothing to change the outcome of the fight, that Kanan didn’t blame him and Ahsoka wouldn’t if she could. The only problem was that he needed to believe it too, and usually he could manage that much on the Ghost, with the people who cared about him. Out here in the desert, alone and facing her friend and mentor, it was hard to hold on to that belief.

“My presence would have done nothing more than induce Darth Vader to greater wrath.” Kenobi’s voice stayed gentle as he repeated the sentiment, and Ezra knew his own feelings on the subject weren’t exactly hard to read – he was probably broadcasting his emotional turmoil to any force sensitive being on the planet. “He hates me more than anything, and that hate gives him power.”

Being treated with kid gloves didn’t change the content of the message – whatever Ezra was hoping to accomplish on Tatooine when he ran off with an admittedly half-formed plan remained as elusive as ever. Now he could only do his best to keep his voice from shaking. “So you’re not going to do anything.”

Master Kenobi stood, unmoving. “I will continue, as I have done, until my task is complete.”

That was it, then. “Well, thanks. Hope we don’t die while you’re busy collecting rocks,” Ezra said, making his way to the door. He needed to leave, to get out of this hovel, off of Tatooine, back to base, his family, his home. He never should have left.

“I share that hope, young one. May the Force be with you.”

Ezra paused at the door, grabbing hold of the frame for a moment. He nearly turned around, nearly made one last plea, but he stopped himself, staring ahead into the bright canyon. “You too, I guess.”

~

Ezra was silent on the walk back to the ship. It hadn’t been long until he heard Luke running to catch up, the soles of his boots crunching over the rocky trail. He caught up eventually, but he never commented on the conversation, or Ezra’s outburst.

Maul was dead, and Master Kenobi might as well be, for all he intended to do about the Empire. Hera had been right, he never should have left base.

So lost in his thoughts, Ezra managed to snag his foot on a rock and stumble, though Luke caught his arm before he could fall. “Let’s take a break,” he said, motioning toward the shadow of a rocky overhang. Ezra followed more sedately, once more feeling the stifling heat of the twin suns overhead.

He sat down heavily against the cool rock wall, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He heard Luke rummaging around in his pack, and felt him press a hydration pack into his hand. “You should probably take it easy. You don’t want to get sick again.”

Ezra nodded, and drank half the pack nearly in one go.

“Are you going to be ok?” Luke wasn’t talking about the heat sickness. Explaining to Hera how he had lost the training ship was one thing, but didn’t really have anything to show for it. He was sort of banking on that detail being lost in the commotion of a returning war hero.

The quiet of the high desert surrounded them for a long time, as oppressive as the heat. There was no clatter of rocks or movement of air, just still silence as the boys finished their drinks. “I don’t know,” Ezra said finally.

“What do you need?”

“Another way to defeat the empire.” Ezra sighed and pushed himself to his feet, though he didn’t step out into the sunlight just yet. “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how he can just hide here when the Empire has killed so many people. It’s not going to stop unless we do something.”

Luke took a long time to reply, still crouched by the rock, watching something in the middle distance. “I want to go with you.” Ezra met Luke’s eyes briefly, before the other boy looked away and stood. “The Empire . . . if my father was a Jedi, then the Empire killed him. Whatever I was supposed to be, it’s gone now. And I’m glad my aunt and uncle took me in, but . . . now that I know, I can’t just stay here. I have to do something.”

“The rebellion could always use an extra pair of hands,” Ezra replied. Luke grinned at that, and Ezra could feel his cheeks heating in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

“If you’re gonna join us, I guess you had better know my real name. Ezra Bridger,” he said, holding out his hand.

Luke shook it, his hand lingering a little longer than was strictly necessary. “Its nice to meet you, Ezra.”

~*~

Luke knew they were in for a bit of trouble when he saw his uncle waiting by the landing bay as the first sun was starting to set, arms crossed and face impassive. They had checked the datastick Ben had given them and realized the first file it contained was a set of coordinates – and a quick pass revealed it to be the location of a ship, belonging to the darksider who had drawn Ezra to Tatooine in the first place. But by then it was getting late, and they decided to return to the farm for the night, so Ezra could rest and Luke could talk to his aunt and uncle.

That talk seemed likely to occur sooner rather than later, and Luke managed to duck out of any confrontation with the excuse of needing to clean up before dinner, dragging Ezra along behind him with a hand on the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. Uncle Owen’s glare followed them to the refresher.

Dinner was also mostly silent again, except for stilted conversation attempted mostly by Aunt Beru and Ezra, with periodic if somewhat unintelligible input from Chopper.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Aunt Beru said, passing Ezra another meat skewer. “Sometimes it can take a while to get your appetite back, after sunsickness.”

“No, this is great,” Ezra said after taking a bite, covering his mouth. “Usually its just ration bars and stuff like that. It’s been a while since I had a home cooked meal.”

Luke thought this might be laying it on a little thick, but Aunt Beru seemed pleased and it did look like Ezra was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“So what were you boys up to today?” Owen asked finally.

“Luke offered to help me look for transport off world. There wasn’t really a lot left of my ship, so I need another way back home.”

Owen nodded, expression still inscrutable. “Any luck?”

“Yep, found a good ship, right price, and she’ll definitely fly. Just need to pick it up tomorrow and I’ll be on my way.”

“Might have been better to go when you first saw it. Around here you can’t be too sure that someone else won’t walk off with anything that isn’t bolted down.”

Luke and Ezra exchanged a look, somewhat involuntarily, and his aunt and uncle must have noticed. Everyone was finished eating, or nearly so. It might as well be now. Luke took a breath to steady himself, fingernails digging into the canvas of the satchel that he had kept on his lap all through dinner. He reached inside its main pocket, and pulled out a cylinder, placing it on the table in front of him.

To her credit, Aunt Beru was the only person who didn’t seem thoroughly shocked, only a little wistful. Chopper made some sort of sputtering laugh. Uncle Owen’s dumbfounded expression nearly matched Ezra’s. Of course, Ezra’s lightsaber was tucked away under the mattress in Luke’s room. This was something very different.

“Why didn’t you tell me my father was a Jedi?” Owen turned his glare to Ezra, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Ezra hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the lightsaber. “Don’t look at him like that, he didn’t do anything. We met Ben Kenobi today. He said he knew my father.”

“You know you can’t trust anything that old man says,” Owen replied, some of his anger seeming to drain away, but suspicion still intact.

“This is my father’s lightsaber,” Luke said. He felt a little bad about not telling Ezra about Ben’s parting gift, and a little guilty that he wouldn’t be able to take Ben up on his offer to listen to the history of the Jedi and his father. But if he was going to go with Ezra, he would find other people who knew those stories. It would be fine.

“That piece of junk? You can’t possibly know that.”

It might have been bad form to ignite a lightsaber at the dinner table, but no one had ever taught him the ins and outs of Jedi etiquette, so how was he to know? Thankfully the saber itself was pretty self explanatory, and he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to put anyone’s eyes out.

“Seems like it still works.” Luke watched his aunt’s reaction, more telling than his uncle’s anger. She was a little uneasy of the blade, but not fearful or shocked. He turned it off and let it rest before him, unassuming chrome against wood. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Beru-”

“Owen, what use is it now?” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Luke, my love. With the Empire killing Jedi, how safe would it be to have that in our house? And the Hutt care for the Jedi even less.”

“You could have told me.”

“We could have,” Beru conceded. “We discussed it, a few times.”

“You were always so reckless, we weren’t sure if the idea of having mystical powers would get you into more trouble,” Owen continued. Beru looked annoyed at the way he worded it, but didn’t contradict him.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter now,” Luke replied. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to join the rebellion.”

“Absolutely not.” Owen turned his glare back on Ezra. “You. How soon can you pick up your ship?”

Ezra jumped slightly at being addressed in the middle of a family feud. “Um, its sort of out in the middle of nowhere.”

“And there’s a sandstorm forecasted for tonight, so we can’t go that far for it.” Owen scowled and threw his scrunched up napkin onto his plate. “I’ll drive you out first thing. Luke, get to bed. You have work in the morning.”

“This is my-”

“No. It’s not.”

“Ok, well, my room is kind of occupied right now, so-” Owen glared, and Luke stopped. “Fine. Goodnight.” He snatched the lightsaber up of the table and stomped over to his room, slamming the door.

Ezra’s clothes had been cleaned and were lying out on Luke’s bed. Luke blushed and folded them quickly, before setting them on a shelf. That done, he could throw himself on the bed and mope in peace.

Chopper was apparently still allowed to putter around, his odd rhythmic vocalizations layered over the quiet sounds of his aunt and uncle continuing their own argument.

So much had happened today, and his mind felt overburdened with the new information spinning through his thoughts. His father, a Jedi. Ezra, a rebel pilot. Old Ben, not an eccentric hermit but a general and war hero. The weapon of an ancient order, its metal growing warm in his hand. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his uncle, doing his best to keep it from him.

But there was more to it than that, and as Luke lay in the gathering darkness, he remembered his aunt’s wistful expression when she saw the lightsaber. She hadn’t just been remembering his family. She had been sad. She knew that Luke would want to leave.

There wasn’t anything they could really do to stop him, either. They could tell him to stay in his room, they could put him to work cleaning rust off of power couplings. But there were windows in both places, and Luke could sneak out and stow away in the speeder, or follow behind in the Skyhopper. If Luke wanted to join the rebellion, he could.

But they were getting older, his aunt and uncle. Working on the moisture farm was hard enough, but there were the Hutts to deal with, and bounty hunters, and Sand People, and all sorts of dangers in the desert world. If Luke left to join the rebellion, they would be facing them alone.

Unable to sleep, Luke waited for the sounds in the house to quiet in their nightly routines, and then waited a little longer for good measure. He pulled Ezra’s clothes from the shelf, and used them to wrap the other boy’s lightsaber and a datatape he had tucked into a crack in the wall. And quietly, quietly, he opened his door and stepped out into the hall. His home was made of stone, and he didn’t have to worry about the floors creaking and giving him away. He closed his door again and made his way to the living room.

Uncle Owen was snoring quietly on the cot, an arm thrown over his eyes. Ezra was nowhere to be seen, but Luke felt – well, maybe it was some latent Jedi talent, maybe it was just his intuition, but he made his way through the underground warren that made up their home and to the workshop.

Ezra was sleeping on a futon on the floor, piled with blankets against the nightly chill. In the dim blue glow of electronics and curled on his side with his arms wrapped around a pillow, he looked more peaceful than he had all day.

“Ezra?” Luke whispered, making his way into the room.

Ezra groaned and stretched, rubbing his eyes for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you your lightsaber,” Luke replied, crouching down to give his bundle to the other boy.

“Thanks.” Ezra cradled the lightsaber in his hands, staring down at it sleepily. Whatever he was thinking about didn’t seem to wake him up any further.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” Luke asked.

Ezra shook his head and sighed, setting his lightsaber by his pillow and laying back down. He turned on his side again, this time facing Luke. Luke sat down on the futon, but it was a bit of an awkward angle, and he eventually lay down too, mirroring Ezra.

“I’m sorry about today,” Luke said. “About everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Ezra wasn’t really looking at Luke, his eyes nearly closed. Luke thought he might drift back to sleep, and he could feel all the events of the day himself, tired down to his bones. But it wasn’t long before Ezra spoke again, nearly whispering. “Rex tells a lot of stories about the clone wars.”

Luke didn’t reply, waiting to see if Ezra would continue. Rex was one of the names Ezra had thrown at Ben, someone he had left behind, someone who had fought beside him, who might have known Luke’s father. Luke probably wouldn’t hear those stories now; if Owen didn’t like the thought of the rebellion, he very nearly hated old Ben. Ezra was his last chance. “He doesn’t really talk about the fighting, but he talks about his friends all the time. Cody, Fives, Echo. All the other clones.” Ezra ran a finger along a woven pattern on one of the blankets, lost in his own memories. “Commander Tano. General Kenobi. General Skywalker. Rex is convinced Master Kenobi is dead, because he knows his friend would be out there with us, fighting the Empire, if he was able.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know.” Ezra was quiet for a long time, but his eyes were more focused, his brow furrowed. “He was their friend. I never hear anyone tell a story about Master Skywalker without mentioning Master Kenobi.”

“Can you tell me about him?” Luke asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “About my father. About Ahsoka and Rex and everyone.”

“I don’t really know much about Master Skywalker.” Ezra turned over on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I partially learned how to use a lightsaber from a recording my master had of him, but it broke a while ago. Ahsoka was his student, his padawan. Rex was the clone captain that he fought with. ‘From the battle of Christophsis to the Siege of Mandalore,’” Ezra said, his voice going a little louder as he quoted someone. “At least, that’s how long Rex and Ahsoka fought together. Rex was with him longer.”

Ezra’s jaw clenched, and he covered his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault the recording of your father is broken, and it’s my fault Ahsoka is-”

Luke reached to take Ezra’s hand, drawing it away from his face. The other boy allowed the movement, but kept his eyes tightly shut. “Ben said it wasn’t your fault.”

“He wasn’t there. You weren’t either.”

“I wasn’t,” Luke replied. He squeezed Ezra’s hand. “We haven’t known each other very long, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t do anything to hurt your friends. Not on purpose. And I think if you did on accident, you wouldn’t do it again.”

Luke used his free hand to pull out the datatape and held it up between them. “The Empire pretty much lets the Hutts do what they want out here, as long as they bribe the officials regularly enough. But we still have to deal with Stormtroopers roughing people up and walking around like they own the place. We don’t get a lot of news out here, but when we do we pass it around, even the things we aren’t supposed to have, things the Hutts and their Empire pals don’t want us to know.” Luke glanced up at Ezra for a moment. “When I first met you, I felt like I had known you for a while. I didn’t really put it together until you were trying to get Ben to join you.”

He pressed play on the little recorder, waiting for the buzz of feedback before familiar words jumped into being with a holographic starbird, the volume kept low, almost inaudible.

“ _See what the Empire has done to your lives, your families, and your freedom? It’s only gonna get worse. Unless we stand up and fight back. It won’t be easy. There will be loss, and sacrifice, but we can’t back down just because we’re afraid. That’s when we need to stand the tallest. That’s what my parents taught me. That’s what my new family helped me remember. Stand up together, because that’s when we’re strongest. As one-”_

The recording ended in static, the starbird disappearing abruptly. Ezra’s eyes remained fixed on the space it had occupied. Almost breathlessly, he asked, “Where did you get that?”

“From a friend,” Luke shrugged. “We pass them around hidden in spare parts or borrowed tools. Someone must have recorded it and spread it around the holonet. Anyone could have pulled it off of a dark server. I recorded a copy of this one over an old game I don’t play anymore. We can pretty much hide them wherever.”

Ezra ran his fingers over the disk, but didn’t move to take it. “My crew, my family, we hijacked a communications tower to put this message out there. We almost got away with it, but the Empire was waiting for us. They captured my master. We all thought he was going to die.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. They’ve come too close though. Too many times.” Luke still had Ezra’s hand caught in his own, and this time Ezra’s grip tightened for just a moment. “Its dangerous, trying to fight them.”

“Its like you said. Loss and sacrifice. That’s what it will take to stand up to the Empire, but we have to stand up anyways. Do you still believe that?”

Ezra grimaced, remembering some old pain, and he held Luke’s hand a little tighter. “I do. I just don’t want my family to keep getting hurt.”

“I couldn’t image what that must be like.”

“I don’t want you to.”

They quieted after that, lost in separate thoughts. Ezra’s grip loosened as his eyes drifted closed, and Luke watched him for a while in the dim light before sleep overtook him, too.

~*~

Ezra woke to morning light streaming into the workshop, the white stone walls glowing like fire. He was facing Luke, still asleep, their hands tangled together from the night before.

A shadow passed the doorway before Ezra could think much of it, and he glanced up to see Luke’s uncle standing there, arms crossed, face carefully blank. “You ready to go?” he asked.

Ezra nodded and stood quietly, gathering what little he had brought with him in his shirt. Luke made some sleepy noise at the movement, and Ezra thought for a moment that he might wake up, but he only curled deeper into the blankets and settled down again.

They passed no one on their way to the speeder, the household not yet stirring for the new day. Chopper waited quietly in the back seat, unusually subdued. He chattered a short greeting and went quiet again.

“Hey, Chop.” Ezra held Obi Wan’s datastick out for the droid. “Time to go home. You think you can get us to the ship?”

Chopper snatched the stick from Ezra and blorted rudely in reply – there was the droid he knew. He pulled up a holographic map with the ship’s location marked. “Alright, climb in,” Owen said finally. “I know where we’re headed.”

The ride was silent in a manner that Ezra was no longer quite used to. Hera and Kanan never really made him sweat it out or “think about what he’d done” or whatever, usually preferring to talk over any transgressions or outbursts. Owen just seemed anxious to be rid of him.

Soon enough the spires of Maul’s ship inched up over the horizon, a much taller craft than Ezra was used to flying, but with Chopper’s help he could probably figure it out. They approached the ship in that same stifling silence, the landing struts half buried from the storm and no sign of any scavengers approaching since. Neither Luke nor Ezra had spotted any tracks the day before, but Maul had a way about him that discouraged visitors.

Ezra was about to step out of the speeder, when he thought better of it and turned to Owen. The man was staring ahead at the ship, resolved to ignore Ezra as best he could. “Thank you for taking care of me. I wouldn’t have made it without your family’s help. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Owen replied. He bit his lip, and after a moment continued: "I wouldn't have a problem with it if I thought you weren't going to run off and break his heart. You’re a good kid I'm sure, but he's my nephew, and I promised to keep him safe."

Ezra’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. "I wouldn't to anything to hurt him. He's important."

"Just important?" Owen’s voice was a little shaper here.

"I like him, ok?” Ezra sighed. “But its like you said. I can't stay here and you won't let him go. So it’s better this way. After the war is over, maybe I'll come back and look you guys up." The conversation was starting to drag on too long. Ezra was anxious to get back to base. It was time to put Tatooine behind him.

"After the war is over, then." Owen seemed to take the statement for the empty promise that it was – the likelihood of surviving long in a struggle against the Empire was not very great. He didn’t offer his hand to shake, or any further parting words. Ezra stepped out of the speeder, and Chopper followed, rocketing out and probably leaving a bit of a mess, but Ezra really couldn’t care.

Owen waved a farewell before steering the speeder away – Ezra inclined his head in reply, and turned back to the ship. “Well, here’s our ride.” Chopper grumbled in reply, his forward momentum hampered a bit because of the sand. “Let’s scan it first, make sure Maul didn’t leave us any parting gifts.”

Chopper saluted and raised his antenna, while Ezra settled in to wait.

~

As luck would have it, Maul left mines buried in the nearby sand, and Ezra spent a few hours carefully disarming them in the shade of the wings. Chopper worked to unlock the ship without setting off its anti-theft programming, which conveniently doubled as a self-destruct. But Chopper was confident in his skills, the ship was solid, and any weapons that could be scrounged up could be put to use by the rebellion, so the work went quickly enough.

Ezra was just loading the last of the mines when he heard the putter of a familiar engine, and looked up to see a T16 make a high pass over their ship before settling down between the dunes. Ezra handed the mine off to Chopper and rushed out of the ship, anxious suddenly that the Empire had somehow found out that Luke’s family had helped him, that something had happened.

Luke ran towards him, and Ezra’s fears were somewhat alleviated – the other boy was grinning, carrying a large pack. “They changed their minds! My aunt and uncle. They said I can come with you!”

“That’s amazing!” Ezra threw his arms around Luke, heedless of the pack, and they were unbalanced for a moment, laughing and spinning with each other. Ezra pulled back but kept hold of Luke’s hand – he wouldn't be letting go this time. “Come on, I have to show you this ship. Have you ever flown anything Mandalorian before?”

“I can probably figure it out,” Luke laughed. “Let’s go meet your family.”

~

AP-5 was the first person to meet them when they landed, but he just took one look at Chopper carrying a stack of explosives, threw up his arms, and toddled off to count shipping crates or whatever it was he liked to do until the galaxy made sense again. Chopper wheeled away after him, waving his prizes in his arms and sputtering indignantly.

Luke hadn’t yet managed to pick his jaw up off of the flood. The many ships on the landing platform and the techs and soldiers and pilots scurrying between them were all dwarfed by the petal-like spires of the native stone. If this was how Luke was going to react to a bunch of weird rocks, Ezra couldn’t wait to introduce him to the Bendu.

“That better mean what I think it means!” Luke startled suddenly at the sound of the shout, nearly tripping as he spun around to find the source. Ezra smiled and waved to Zeb, though moving too much was starting to really mess with his sunburns. “Who’s the kid?”

The denizens of Tatooine were a diverse bunch, so Luke didn’t stare or do anything really uncomfortable upon meeting his first Lasat. “I’m Luke,” he replied. “You’re Zeb, right? Garazeb Orrelios? Ezra’s told me so much about you!"

“Better be good things,” Zeb muttered, shoving Ezra a bit, though he was smiling. “Our fearless leaders are on their way, so I hope you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Luke asked, standing on his toes to look around.

“Remember how I said I wasn’t supposed to be on Tatooine?” Ezra said, going to rub the back of his neck but thinking better of it at the last moment.

“I think I remember something like that.”

The three spun around to face Hera, who had managed to sneak up in the commotion, followed quickly by Kanan. “Hey~! Hera! So, how are you doing this fine evening?”

Hera just signed and shook her head, smiling fondly. “So, you left with an A-wing and come back with a Gauntlet? How did you manage that one?”

“Its kind of a long story,” Ezra replied. “One I will be happy to share! But, I mean, the ship isn’t the most important part of all this.”

Luke waved at Ezra’s prompting, looking a bit star struck by Hera’s general presence. “I’m Luke Skywalker. I heard you need pilots?”

“Always. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke.”

“Skywalker, huh?” It was the first Kanan had spoken since they had landed. “That sounds like a story.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Probably a better one to hear over a meal,” Hera said. “And maybe we should get something for Ezra’s skin – I’m pretty sure humans aren’t supposed to be that color.”

Zeb poked at the back of Ezra’s neck just as Hera was finishing, and Ezra very nearly shrieked. “Oh, gross! Kanan, his skin is coming off! That’s not natural!”

“Zeb, it’s just a sunburn, stop poking at.”

“You don’t know what it looks like!”

As Zeb and Kanan continued their spat, Ezra turned to Luke and smiled. “Welcome to the family.”

~*~

For the second time in as many days Obi Wan Kenobi heard the shrill whine of an engine as it passed overhead, searching for a place to land. He hadn’t expected a visitor again so soon, now that his off-world guests were taken care of as needed. He imagined Owen would be more wary, might keep a sharper eye on Luke, and thought it unlikely the young man would be able to find time to listen to old war stories and learn his history.

It had been strange to see Luke again, so close. Time felt like it passed differently lately – or maybe there was not much to remember out in the desert. But between holding the infant in his arms, passing the last hope for the galaxy off to the closest relatives he could find and giving a much older Luke his father’s lightsaber, it simply seemed . . . compressed. Like the time hadn't really passed at all. Though, obviously . . . .

It had been almost painful to look at him. His sandy hair, his soft features – he looked so much like Anakin at that age, right down to the want of adventure. But it was tempered just enough by patience and compassion. He knew exactly where that came from, but he stopped himself before he could wonder how different it might have been. The inquiry was as useless seventeen years ago as it was now. All the time and distance in the world couldn’t stop Obi Wan from missing them, but it was long past the time to see Luke as his own person, and not just an amalgamation of his two closest friends.

He’d steeled himself for a different sort of meeting, so when Owen arrived at the door, red-faced and out of breath, it took him a moment to react. “What’s happened?”

“Luke. He ran off with that boy, the pilot. He’s gone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Luke takes a page from Toph's playbook and Ezra doesn't notice because ~he's in luuuuuuuuuuuuuv~ 
> 
> I'm sure that won't come back to haunt anyone right y'all.


End file.
